He tells me that he is not going to London till May, and will conduct only two concerts of the New Philharmonic.  As a kind of prelude to the Paris “Exposition Universelle”, he will perform his Te Deum on the 1st of May in the Church of St. Eustache.

During this week of the year we are generally in a state of great confusion.  Six years ago, on the 16th of February, “Tannhauser” was performed for the first time, and on the same date two years ago the “Flying Dutchman;” for today “Belisario” is announced, which at any rate I prefer to the silly “Le Macon,” which has been the delight of Dresden and Weymar during the winter.  Even some of our friends were simple enough to call this rotten musique de portieres charming and a model of its kind.

The Cologne people have done better than this:  they have bravely swallowed “Lohengrin” without choking over it.  This has delighted me.  From Hamburg also I hear that the public are gradually being educated up to it.

How far have you got with the “Valkyrie?”

Difficult as I find it to part with your “Rhinegold,” I promise to send the score to Fischer in a few days.  He can send me the pianoforte arrangement later on.

My best remembrances to your wife.  I shall soon write again, and also hope to hear from you.

Most thine own, F. Liszt.

Weymar, February 16th, 1855.

176.

These lines, most incomparable friend, are intended to introduce to you Carl Klindworth, about whom I have spoken and written to you several times.  You will find him an excellent musician and pianist, who is cordially devoted to you, and has not in vain lived several years with me at Weymar.  Since last year he has been settled in London, where I cordially commend him to your protection.

Your

F. Liszt.

Weymar, February 16th, 1855.

177.

Dearest, dearest Liszt,

Pray let me have the letter to Erard for which I asked you concerning the piano.

More after the concert.

178.

Dearest Richard,

You have entirely forgotten to let me have your address; and although your fame has reached the point of immortality, it is just possible that the London postmen might have heard nothing of “Tannhauser” and “Lohengrin.”  Be kind enough therefore to tell me in your next letter the street and the number of the house.

These lines you receive through Klindworth.  Enclosed is the letter to the maison Erard, which is represented in London by M. Bruzot.  If Erard himself should be there, pay him a visit at once, but I doubt whether he is sufficiently recovered to occupy himself with pianoforte and harp matters.  A few months ago my children wrote to me from Paris that Erard was very ill, and, after fruitless trials of baths and medicines, had been taken to a private hospital.